Gone Before the Wind
by whirlwinds of watercolours
Summary: Three times he met her in his life; three times he was equally enchanted. Non-Magical AU.


**Summary: Three times he met her in his life; three times he was equally enchanted. Non-Magical AU.**

**Rating: K**

**Word Count: 1216**

**Written For: GGE: Lady; February Prompt Challenge; Modern!AU Challenge; Colours Competition: Indigo (I), Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes Competition: Pygmy Puffs; Gemstone Competition: Pearls; Diagon Alley Challenge: Florean Fortescue's, 'As Strong As We Are United' Competition**

**A/N: This is going to be a short AU collection of related oneshots that can be read as a standalone, but only if you want to. Emphasis on the AU part, any flames on how AU is to be prohibited will not be tolerated. Is that clear? Excellent.**

**This is my first time writing Luna and the few times I'm writing Harry, so I hope it's alright. Many thanks to my beta ****_Emma Quinn_****!**

* * *

He was barely twelve when he first met her.

There she was, swinging her legs gaily as she sat on a bough of the apple tree in the orchard, looking as if she had not a care in the world. Blonde hair as bright as the sun in the sky and as shiny as the silver bubbling spring cascaded in little curly ringlets down her back, rippling slightly in the strong breeze. A garland of flowers hung around her neck, and if he was not mistaken, her earrings were made of tiny green leaves which swayed to the movement of her body and in the direction of the wind.

Fascinated, he watched her silently from behind the bushes, not daring to make a sound for fear of alarming the girl. Unreal she seemed, with intelligent grey eyes staring into the far distance and a pink face sprinkled with freckles he could clearly see even from this distance.

Surreptitiously, he made an unconscious movement in an attempt to get closer to this beauty, realising his mistake only a few seconds later. A tell-tale crack resounded from under his right foot, alerting the girl of his presence immediately.

Contrary to his prediction, she did not react with the fear he had expected. Instead, she merely glanced around the orchard in curiosity, presumably seeking the source of the noise. "Is that you, Daddy?" she called, her high voice as clear as a tinkling bell. "Where are you?"

Seeing no other choice than to reveal himself, he slowly stepped from where he was hidden behind the bushes, blushing a red that would make the glossy apples on the tree proud, were they ever to see the sight. Unfortunately they never would, but that clever grey pair of eyes did capture them.

He felt uncomfortably exposed as the eyes roamed over him, looking from the tips of his messy black hair to the end of his grubby toes. Wearing the threadbare clothes which hung sizes too large off his skinny frame, he felt disgusted at himself when compared to her, with her yellow sunflower dress that was albeit a bit stained with dirt.

"Good morning," she greeted cheerfully, strangely not at all bothered by his unwelcome presence nor his odd appearance as she continued to swing her legs, resting on the bough. "What might you be doing here, in my Daddy's orchard?"

The crimson which had not yet faded from his cheeks bloomed back again, this time with full force. Stuttering, he gulped nervously, trying to think up of a reason – any reason, in fact – to be here. What might she think of him if he told her the truth?

"I… I…" All of a sudden, his mouth felt too dry, his throat too constricted. His mind raced around, trying to find one of the excuses he made to his aunt whenever he came home just a few minutes late, but unable to dredge up any. Finally, he resigned himself to his fate.

"I was really hungry, and I thought no one was in the orchard, so I sneaked over the fence, thinking I could steal an apple or two…" Here, his voice got stuck in his throat, but he sucked in a deep breath and forced himself to continue. "I'm so sorry." He kept his eyes trained on his old pair of sneakers, too ashamed to look up at her. How could he ever have entertained such an unholy thought? Did all the lessons from his aunt on the subject of stealing ever register – truly register – in his head?

The growing dread in his heart grew heavier as he heard the creak of a branch and a soft landing of "Oomph!" on the grass. Oh no, the girl must hate him now. No, hate was a bit of an understatement, _detest with a burning passion _would be a better and more accurate description.

Cold fear gripped him in a tight vice grip as her footsteps padded across the green velvet grass, getting tighter and tighter around his throat with each passing second. He could practically hear his heart pounding the beats – the beats of his death – in his ears, feel his vision getting blurrier by moments until his sneakers were so unfocussed that they looked like blobs of white on green.

Her footsteps stopped, and his heart would have done so too when a pale hand placed itself on his shoulder. "It's alright," she comforted, her voice surprisingly gentler than it should have been in a situation like this. "We all have our moments. Have an apple."

With skilful ease, she scaled the tree she was sitting on minutes ago and picked two apples. Jumping down again without even injuring herself in the slightest, she passed him one of the apples and crossed her legs, sitting down in the shade of the tree.

"Don't worry, Daddy likes to water his apples too when he tends to the orchard, in case of sudden guests," she winked when she saw him look at the apple cautiously. Deciding to take a chance, he took a bite and was instantly overwhelmed by the pleasant favour. Sweet, but with a hint of sourness; juicy, but quite crunchy as well – this girl's father had a fortune in his hands!

"Come on, join me here." Extending her hand, she gestured invitingly to the spot next to her. Hesitantly, he took it, sitting down on the grass alongside her. How could he resist, with such innocent, doe grey eyes staring at him pleadingly?

So they sat, side by side, munching their apples in comfortable silence. For the first time in his life which he remembered, he felt… safe. Protected from the cruel harshness of the outside world; enclosed in the apple orchard with this strange, remarkable girl. He supposed he had felt that way too, back when they were alive, but he was too young to remember. Sometimes he would strain his mind to picture them, to picture the memories of his one-year-old self, but he just could not.

Blades of grass, warmed by the sun, tickled his legs as the cooling wind blew past. Relaxing from the glare of the sun and staring into the blue sky spotted with clouds, he felt the urge to sleep overwhelming him. Closing his eyes, he was in a doze before a hand gently tapped him on the shoulder.

"I have to go back to the house now," the girl explained, pointing over the distance where a strangely shaped house stood. Before he could even figure out what the shape was meant to be, the girl continued. "Daddy says I have to be back for lunch every day or else. I'll leave you here, then. You can climb over the fence anytime you want. Bye!"

"Wait!" he yelled, trying to stop the girl in her tracks. She had already skipped quite a fair distance away, but she did not stop to answer him. Not knowing whether she heard him or not, he tried again. "Wait! Before you go, what's your name?"

He thought she could not have heard him anymore, but apparently she did. "Luna!" she responded loudly, never once even stopping in her tracks or turning to look at him. "My name is Luna!"


End file.
